Children of the Shadows: The Watchers
by Kara
Summary: Pre-Series: Two women come to a startling revelation as they watch the X-5s sleep


The Watchers  
By Kara  
  
Rating: PG  
Spoilers: None, pre-series  
Summary: As they watch the X-5s sleep, two women have an epiphany about the children they look after.  
A/N: For Nace, who betaed. g Just to warn you, this might become a whole series, if there's enough interest...  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
"How do you stand it, Liz?" Marian Cheney pulled up her chair next to the glass window, just as she had every night for the past three months.   
  
Liz shrugged, not looking up from her knitting, needles flashing in the harsh fluorescent lights. "It's a job. John's still out of work, and Nick still has his sights set on med school. If there were any other way for my son to get out of Gillette, I'd be out of this job in a minute, but…" Liz looked up, dark hair falling into her still young face. "It's not so bad, after a while…"  
  
Marian leaned back, staring out at the two rows of thirteen pallets on the floor. "Did we fight to get into Harvard Med for this though? Four years of school, two years of residency, hours of graveyard shifts in the emergency room at the State hospital… Baby-sitters."  
  
The dark-haired woman took one last look out at the pallets before returning to her knitting. Her first grandchild due in the next few weeks, and though Liz wouldn't handle the delivery, she still intended to have everything prepared at home for Lindsey's baby. "It helps if you don't think of them as what they are. They weren't born, Marian. Cold as that is, we aren't raising them. We just…watch them."  
  
Liz could almost feel her colleague shaking beside her in fury. "Liz, that's…"  
  
"Inhuman?" This was a conversation they'd had before over the past four years, when they were both hired on to the government project after layoffs at the medical center. Marian had never been so adamant about it, in their three months of duty as night watchers. "So are they, Marian."  
  
Neither of them were sure exactly why these children were so special. There were rumors, of course, since a good number of their townsfolk also worked for the research center. Her OB/GYN practice had earned her a coveted spot on the delivery team, but that didn't mean that Liz had any idea of what she was seeing. Her job was watching: watching the mothers, to make sure the births had no complications, watching the children to make sure they survived the night. There were problems with this batch. Four of the thirty 'millennium series' babies died in the past year because of seizures and complications, and no one could figure out why yet. Management wanted these children treated like gold, and so she and Marian watched, just in case.  
  
"Children," she heard Marian whisper, seeing the other doctor run her hand through her short blond curls out of the corner of her eye. Marian never had children--never had been able to have children, though Liz knew that she and Charlie had tried, time and time again. But these weren't children. When they were awake, they didn't laugh and play and shout like Liz's son and daughter had done at the same age. They only saw their subjects as they were readying for bed, each small body encased in scrubs. Children wore yellow footed pajamas and carried stuffed animals. These small adults marched to their pallets each night, obediently laid down, and feigned sleep.  
  
It wasn't that Liz hated children. She had gone into obstetrics to help mothers and save newborns from unnecessary complications at birth. Her own mother had died, bringing her into the world, one of the rare cases of labor fatality. But after so many years of caring for children and feeling no connection to the young women who were her patients, Liz couldn't help feeling burned out…like it was a clinical lack on her part that she felt no empathy with the mothers she saw. When the research center had opened up in their failing little town five years ago, Liz had jumped at the chance, hoping to renew her sense of purpose and faith in medicine. But even that had failed.  
  
"What are you going to do, Mari? Sneak out of a fully-secured government agency with one of them? If you make it as far as the door, I commend you." The nurses and watchers didn't even really touch the subjects, except in an emergency. When one of the children whimpered in the night, Liz had no desire to stroke the small hand, rocking the body until the child fell back to sleep. It wasn't so much forbidden as it was frowned upon. There was trouble with this group, more trouble than with past attempts at whatever the government was doing. Liz's friend Hannah swore that one of the mothers of this group had tried to escape with her unborn child. No one knows exactly what happened to that young mother, but it couldn't have been good.  
  
"But it's wrong, Lizzie. Can't you see that? They're babies," Marian countered. There was a tired look on the blonde's face. But they weren't babies. They were enhanced humans with crew cuts and some sort of tracking brand burnt into the back of their necks. Marian's hand touched the glass, pointing to the two pallets nearest them. "Would you want Lindsey to have to live in a place like this? Or Nick?"  
  
But her babies were human, every cell in Liz's body screamed out. Her children were products of a natural union between man and woman. They were children of God. They had souls. They weren't created by Man playing God.  
  
As the two women watched, the body nearest them began to shudder violently. The seizures weren't unusual--Liz had even been instructed to wait to see how the seizures progressed before acting.   
  
The child's dark eyes flew open, and Liz could hear the soft sounds of whimpering coming over the speakers. The cries were almost that of an animal, like the mewling of a cat--nothing like the wails of her own babies when they fell or were hurt. But before either woman could react, the child on the next pallet sat up and turned towards the shaking child. Even after three months, Liz had problems telling which children were male and female, since both sexes wore the crew cuts and scrubs. Their small bodies and faces all tended towards androgyny to the point where Liz even wondered if the children themselves understood male and female. But there was something about the way this child reached out with tiny hands to stroke the head of the other child…something very feminine and almost motherly…   
  
Liz and Marian both watched in silence as the little girl cradled the seizing child in her arms, crooning softly. Even with hyper-sensitive sensors, it was hard to tell exactly what the girl said. Day staff had mentioned how eerily quiet this set was, rarely vocalizing even among themselves. There was even speculation that the geneticists had figured a way to tap into the more primitive, enhanced senses of the brain, allowing the subjects some sort of extra-sensory means of communication. This fifth generation in particular seemed strong. After three months, this was the first sound that either woman had heard any of the twenty-six make.   
  
Moments passed, and the child's shudders subsided. Neither child said anything, but Liz didn't miss the look that passed between both sets of dark eyes. It wasn't the cold look of some artificially created being, or even the look of a dumb animal. It was the grateful look of a child being comforted-from one human to another.  
  
"Okay?" The little girl's small voice broke the silence.  
  
The second child nodded and smiled a luminous smile, shattering the normally composed and blank mask that all the children wore. Liz was startled by what a change that made on the second girl's face. If the child ever grew up, she would be beautiful.   
  
And then by some silent mutual agreement, the first girl curled up on the pallet with the second, both dark heads lying on the same stiff pillow.  
  
"Gonna sleep?" the first voice asked.  
  
"Don't like to." The second voice, soft and almost husky, was emphatic.   
  
"Me either." And then there was a shared giggle, followed by silence, almost as if the girls themselves were surprised by the sound they'd made.  
  
"Lizzie?" Marian's hand touched her arm, almost as if her friend was afraid to break the fragile moment. Liz wondered who had the greater epiphany, herself, or the two little girls lying next to each other. But she knew better than to say anything. The room where the children slept wasn't the only place that was bugged. The entire facility was, and only the highest people had full security clearances.  
  
"They're children." But what kind of childhood was this? Raising babies in a cold environment, teaching them who knew what… These children would be the only family that the others had. At least two of them had realized that. "Do you think they realize what they are?"  
  
Marian, who had minored in psychology all those decades ago, shook her head. "They're four years old. Even normal children aren't quite self-aware at this age. Most think of the world as an extension of themselves. But these…they've been inundated since birth. God knows how they think, or what they'll teach themselves…"  
  
The two women leaned against each other, watching the children as they slept. Liz examined each small face, noting the subtle differences as the children slept. One boy had a brush of freckles across his pale face. A blonde on the far end had kicked off her regulation blue blanket, and snored softly. For all that they walked in two straight lines, and ate in two straight lines, and slept in two straight lines, just like twelve little girls in Paris had once done, these miniature adults were still children, sleeping as children did. A couple had thumbs in their mouths. One boy, the one that Hannah had marked as the oldest child of this fifth generation, seemed almost to sleep on edge. He stirred every now and then at the slightest sound, a frown on his face. The two dark-haired little girls had finally fallen back to sleep, still curled up on one pallet. Only time would tell what would become of these children, and how they would grow up.  
  
"We need to get them out of here," Marian whispered, and Liz couldn't help feeling a twinge of fear. The children's ward was bugged, for security measures, but Liz was all too aware that security and the head researchers weren't just listening to the children at night. Marian's thoughts were worse than treason. They could even mean death.  
  
"Think about it, Mari," Liz cut her off, an arm around her old friend's shoulders. Her eyes never left the window. "This is a high security facility. If we even managed to make it out of here with one child…"  
  
"But we can't let them keep these children prisoner! That's…just wrong," Marian insisted.  
  
"Remember who keeps this town afloat. Remember who pays your bills every month. Think logically, Marian." As much as it killed her, Liz had to admit defeat. "They know who we are, where we live, what our husbands' names are. The doctors here treat my son. Their children played with mine. And if we do anything to jeopardize that…" Lindsey's baby was due soon. Her first granddaughter. Liz didn't want her first grandchild to grow up in a cold institution like this. Children needed family, but sometimes, you had to help your own family before you tried to protect anyone else's.  
  
Marian began to shake. "They're just babies. Children. I don't care who created them."  
  
Liz closed her eyes and almost prayed for disaster to strike, or that those in charge of this project wouldn't listen to the surveillance tapes tonight. At least not in this ward. "And there's nothing we can do for them, Mari." She swallowed, every fiber of her being trying to stop her from what she had to say. "We have to let them be. We can't…we can't--" Her voice cracked.  
  
Marian turned to face Liz again, and Liz could see the struggle between what was right and what was necessary in the blonde's green eyes. "We can only watch and wait, Lizzie." There was a grim determination in Marian's eyes. "And hope that someday, the children will learn to fight for themselves."  
  
  
  
Donald Lydecker sat back in his chair as he observed the two night doctors. Both women had been picked for the job because of their outstanding credentials and predisposition to accepting what they were told. Few of the medical population left in Gillette had such good records. Apparently, these women were smarter than they let on as well. Few knew the true purpose of Manticore. Most of the genetic researchers thought that they were attempting to engineer a more biologically-sound type of human, with boosted immune systems and higher stem cell counts. Only the top physicians saw the non-human DNA being interwoven into what the biologists created. But there was time enough for the people at Manticore to learn. Just as there was time to see if the X-5s would prove to be the generation that rectified every past problem the project had ever had.  
  
He wasn't unhappy with the progress the X-5s were making. Tonight was a breakthrough, but not in the ways that Drs. Cheney and Santos thought. Tonight proved that the X-5s were self-aware, even more so than the X-2 series had been. There had been difficulties with the X-2s, because they were almost too independent, to the point of wanting to kill each other on sight. But these kids…perhaps it was time to implement a new step in their training-the concept of a squadron, of loyalty, of family. X5452 and X-5338 certainly showed great potential. And the Board already had an eye out for the oldest, X-5599, as the CO for this outfit.  
  
Lydecker decided to send word tomorrow to the guards that the X-5s weren't to be disturbed after they retired for the night. He wanted to see how things developed with this group. The dynamics were already incredible, but at this fragile stage, any interference might jeopardize the ties that bound these twenty-six together. A good soldier needed to be able to trust his squadron, yet still be able to think for himself. And if these kids already realized that they were individual people, with no promptings from their indoctrinations... The two women, Cheney and Santos, would definitely be watched. Potentially even transferred. And the X-5s…only time would tell what kind of marvels they would become.  



End file.
